


queen

by YouAreMyDesign



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom Will Graham, Breeding Kink, Cages, Collars, Dom Hannibal Lecter, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Facial Shaving, Fluff and Smut, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Pet Play, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Possessive Behavior, Shaving, Spoiled Will Graham, Sub Will Graham, Top Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham Knows, kitten play, kitten will graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 15:40:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18626212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign
Summary: Now that Will has the collar around his neck, he can sink deeper into his mindset, and his kitten hates having facial hair.





	queen

Hannibal picks Will up from the airport when he and Jack fly in from Florida, having just returned from helping the Orlando P.D. profile a serial home invader who had recently escalated to murder, drawing the attention of the FBI. Will looks exhausted, his eyes dark when he meets Hannibal's in the arrivals' lounge, but his smile is brilliant and wide, showing most of his teeth. He gives Jack a nod, hoisting the strap of his messenger bag up higher on his shoulder, and Jack veers away from them towards the parking garage as Will strides over to Hannibal, his rolling suitcase in tow.

"Hello, darling," Hannibal murmurs. Will is normally reserved in public, having been raised in the Bible belt and naturally cautious of catching errant homophobia, but he eagerly sinks into Hannibal's arms, kneading at the small of his back under his jacket as Hannibal embraces him tightly.

Hannibal kisses his hair, smiling when he feels Will shiver, heavy and warm and stinking of the plane – that specific filtered air and carpet smell, peanuts and sweat. He slides his hands down Will's back, smile widening when he arches and lets out a soft, sweet noise, nosing at Hannibal's shoulder.

Hannibal pulls away and takes his suitcase from him, and they walk together to the short-term parking lot. Once they are out of the airport, the soft wind greets them, the sun warm and beating down, and Will curls up against him, lacing their fingers together as they walk. The sweet, soft touches Will gives him, the way he so obviously wants Hannibal's hands on him, makes Hannibal smile and feel warm deep in his chest. Will has been gone for five days with Jack, and Hannibal missed his boy terribly.

They get to the car and Hannibal puts his suitcase in the trunk, as Will rubs his jaw against his shoulder, letting out another soft, complaining noise when Hannibal doesn't hold him immediately. So demanding – Hannibal loves it. He closes the trunk and wraps his arms around Will again, lets him puff and nuzzle Hannibal's neck, fingers kneading in little flexes of his hands on Hannibal's chest and arms.

Hannibal slides a hand through his soft, curling hair, gently rubs the nape of his neck as Will starts to purr. "I missed you too, darling," he murmurs, and Will's lashes flutter, he mewls weakly, and rubs his temple against Hannibal's mouth, jaw to his collarbone. "Come, let me take you home."

Will nods, parts from him slow and reluctant, and gets into the passenger seat. He puts the seat back, curls up once Hannibal fastens his seatbelt, and wraps his arms around his knees, settling on his side. He's clearly exhausted, and his eyes close most of the way, so he can still see Hannibal beneath his lashes. Hannibal smiles, and kisses his forehead, before he gets in the driver's seat and pulls out of the parking spot.

The drive to his home takes a little over half an hour, and by the end of it Will is lax and sleepy, soft and purring, as Hannibal puts his suitcase in the hallway and gathers him close, helping him from the car and into the house. Will has started to let out quiet, petulant noises now, purring sweetly as he rubs his scruffy jaw on Hannibal's jacket, hands sliding down his flanks to grip and knead.

Hannibal pets over his cheek, feeling the soft, dark hair there, and Will lets out a huff of complaint. "Come, darling," he coaxes, and gathers a fistful of Will's hair, pulling him close so he can lead him up the stairs once the door is locked. Will goes eagerly, follows to the large bathroom joining Hannibal's bedroom.

Hannibal undresses him with reverent hands, shedding his boy's clothes and baring his warm, soft skin. Will is blessed with a natural smoothness and beauty the rival of statues, his muscled body moves like water, shifting and shivering in the relatively cool air as Hannibal gets him naked. Then, Hannibal leaves him, and fetches his collar. It's a thin strap of leather, loose enough to sit at the base of Will's throat. He brings it back and stands behind Will, smiles when Will tilts his head and lowers his lashes, sighs heavily, fingers curling up in front of his stomach as Hannibal fastens the collar around his throat.

Will whines, softly, and paws at his face.

"I know, darling," Hannibal murmurs. Now that Will has the collar around his neck, he can sink deeper into his mindset, and his kitten hates having facial hair. "Turn around, sit on the counter."

Will obeys with a weak noise, clambering up and kneeling on the counter, which Hannibal made sure was strong and deep enough to bear his weight. He goes to his elbows, curled up tightly, lifts his head when Hannibal pets through his hair.

Will tucks his elbows between his knees, paws at Hannibal's hips, and settles when Hannibal brushes his fingers down Will's cheek. He reaches for the shaving kit, with the straight razor and strop and sharpening block. He made sure to sharpen it before he went to fetch Will, knowing he would want to be shaved as soon as he got home.

He fills a small bowl with warm water and takes out the shaving foam, setting it down, and grabs a washcloth, wetting it with the water, and begins to clean Will's face, to soften the hair and get rid of any lingering sweat or grime from the airplane. Will sighs through his nose, eyes dark as he settles, tilts his head to show his neck so Hannibal can get every patch of hair wet. Then, Hannibal sprays the shaving foam on the washcloth, and coats Will's face and neck with the lather.

He unfolds the razor, testing the edge of it. Will purrs softly, and tilts his head to one side, as Hannibal finds the edge to his liking and puts his other hand in Will's thick hair, holding him still. He drags the long, gleaming edge of the blade down Will's cheek, easily parting the hair and foam from his soft skin. He works carefully, but efficiently, well-versed in navigating the curves and edges of his kitten's face. Will's lips twitch in a smile when one side of his face is bared, and allows Hannibal to guide his head the other way, his neck limp and entire body lax with trust.

Hannibal shaves the other side, carefully pushed on Will's forehead to angle his head up to he can get Will's upper lip, the dimples in his cheeks, the underside of his jaw. Will's eyes close and he sighs, fingers falling limp in the air between them, dragging with no real intent over Hannibal's thighs, petting him in turn. Hannibal wipes the blade clean, dips it in the water, and carefully eases Will into a higher crouch, his hand on Will's collarbones now, keeping him still as he navigates the inviting arch of Will's throat, the sensitive and vulnerable hollow, until all the hair is gone.

He smiles, cleans the blade, folds it, and places it to one side. He takes the clean side of the washcloth, wets it, and pets it over Will's pink, smooth skin. Will turns his head and lips at his wrist, purring loudly at being smooth as he prefers when he has his collar on. When Hannibal is done, he sets the cloth down away from Will, and gently wraps his fingers in the collar, pulling tight.

"Down, darling," he murmurs, and Will lets out a small trill, climbing off the counter and standing on shaky legs. Will is naturally a little smaller than Hannibal, though not by much, but when he's a kitten he curls up and hunches, makes himself tiny and vulnerable and soft. He nuzzles Hannibal's bicep, pink lips parted and wet, pupils wide.

Hannibal smiles, and rakes his eyes down Will's body, to the hair around the base of his cock, and the dark smattering of it on his legs. He pushes at Will's shoulders until Will is sitting on the counter again, and Will spreads his thighs in eager invitation.

Hannibal puts more foam on the washcloth, and coats Will's legs with it, sliding to his knees so he can reach his ankles, and all the way up to his thighs. Will is skinner than when last he saw him, refuses to eat much unless it's Hannibal feeding him, and he sighs, inwardly, making a mental note to prepare a big feast for his kitten once they're done.

He stands again, taking one of Will's feet in his hands, cradling the strong arch, his thumb touching the inside of his ankle. Will smiles at him, sweet and wide, and Hannibal leans in, lets Will nuzzle and lick lightly at his jaw, before he pulls back, takes the razor in hand, and starts his work here. Will's legs are easier to get large swaths of bare at a time, and the hair is not especially thick at the moment since it's only been a few days since Hannibal last shaved them. He shaves Will's lower leg easily, sliding his hand up to grip beneath his knee once he's done, stepping closer and smiling when Will spreads his legs wider so he doesn't get any foam on Hannibal's clothes.

"That's good, darling, thank you," he murmurs, and Will purrs, leaning back on the counter, baring himself eagerly. He hikes his leg up so Hannibal can shave the underside of his thigh, and Hannibal admires the bunch and flex of muscle, the twitch when Hannibal brings the razor in close to his exposed, soft cock. Hannibal finishes with the first leg, switches hands and takes the second, doing the same, until Will is just as smooth here as on his cheeks. He cannot resist petting Will, admiring the smoothness of his legs and face, the implied innocence that hides the purring wildcat beneath. Will is only this sweet with him.

Then, he eyes the short-trimmed thatch of pubic hair surrounding the base of Will's cock, the little trail that leads a few inches up his stomach, to his navel. He lets Will's legs go, sets the razor down, and leans in, nuzzling his kitten's sweet, soft belly.

Will shivers, lets out a quiet, wanting sound, pawing gracelessly at Hannibal's shoulders since he doesn't have the leverage or foundation to arch up as he wants. His legs rise, heels settling on Hannibal's back, thighs tensed up.

Hannibal breathes in, deeply, and his exhale comes in a ragged, shuddering breath. "Were you good while you were away?"

Will meets his eyes, nods, wide-eyed and sweet. Hannibal hums, cupping Will's ass in large, warm hands, angles him so Hannibal can drag his nose down and breathe in the scent of Will's musk in his pubic hair. He parts his jaws, lets saliva drip onto the little patch of curls, and Will shivers, cock twitching in interest.

"I bet you caught a lot of attention, darling," he murmurs, teasing at the little thread of possessiveness between them both. "All those tomcats trying to get you to arch up and yowl for them." He knows, of course, Will would never tolerate such a thing, no matter what mindset he's in – and, indeed, Will bares his sharp canines and snaps his teeth together, lets out a huff of displeasure.

Hannibal smiles at him. "Can you blame them? You're beautiful."

Will's cheeks darken, and he huffs again, but starts purring when Hannibal kneads the firm muscles of his ass, nails digging in and getting him to spread, just enough to remind Will how open and empty he is. Will whines, a crease forming between his brows, and paws at Hannibal's shoulders.

Hannibal straightens, deciding to forgo shaving Will's pubic hair for now – he likes the idea of smelling himself on Will later, staining his most intimate place. He wraps his fingers in Will's collar and tugs him to his feet, pleased when Will moans and arches against him, panting and rubbing himself shamelessly against Hannibal's thigh.

"I have a surprise for you, darling," he says, and Will's eyes flash, brighten with intrigue. Hannibal takes Will's hair and leads him out of the bathroom, turning off the light. He goes back downstairs, Will close behind, and takes him into the study.

He turns on the light, and Will gasps, eyes widening and lips parting around a rough noise as he sees what Hannibal has made for him. Beneath Hannibal's desk is a large, thin-wired crate, draped in soft pink and blue silk, wrapped along the top edges with the soft-glow of fairy lights, with a comfortable nest of pillows and blankets inside it. Will whines eagerly, darting forward before Hannibal can stop him, and crawls into the crate, purring loudly as he rubs his smooth cheeks and legs against the soft material, flops onto his back and shows his belly.

Hannibal smiles, glad that Will likes it, and goes to him, crouching down and petting over Will's warm belly as Will wriggles, getting comfortable. He lets out a sleepy-sounding murmur, lashes lowering, and curls up inside the crate. It's not large enough for him to stretch out, but he can curl up in a fetal position, and he does, purring happily as Hannibal pets him.

Hannibal tilts his head. "Are you hungry, darling? Shall I get you something to eat?"

Will huffs, and shakes his head, his brow creasing again. He paws restlessly at the bars of the cage, lets out a little yowl of complaint. Hannibal's head tilts, and Will wriggles, rolling to his stomach and arching up, showing Hannibal how empty he is.

"Of course," Hannibal says, smiling, and stands. In the same cabinet where he keeps Will's collar is a metal plug, that Will can't take with him when he travels. Hannibal laughs at the notion of Will trying to sneak the thing past security. He takes it out and lubes it up, warming the metal in his hand, and returns to Will, finds him pawing and hissing in displeasure until Hannibal kneels beside him.

He tightens his free hand on the nape of Will's neck, forcing him to go still as tomcats must do to queens when they mount them. The plug is smooth and thin at the tip, rounding out to keep it inside, and the base of it melts into a thick tail, a dark brown and soft, large enough to rival any ragdoll or Maine Coon. The plug itself also ridged as it swells, mimicking the barbs on a male cat, and Hannibal knows it aches when Hannibal pushes it inside.

Will howls, trembling, his hips and thighs giving sharp twitches that, bare as he is, are easily visible to Hannibal's ravenous eyes. He shoves the plug inside – gentle, but unrelenting, and Will tosses his head and shows his pretty teeth when Hannibal works the barbs in him, teasing the plug so it pushes on Will's prostate, until it's sunk all the way inside him, and the tail can fall limp between his thighs.

Will sighs, clamping down around it, his arms stretching as much as he's able as his back dips, arching up when Hannibal scratches down his spine. He lets out a weak, wanting noise, and Hannibal pets through his hair, tugs on the tail to make sure it's secure, and laughs when Will hisses at him in warning.

"Get some sleep, darling," he murmurs, and kisses Will's cheek. Will settles happily, smiling, and crawls around so he can put his cheek on the raised lip of the crate, resting on a thick, white pillow. "I'll be right here if you need anything."

Will smiles, lets out a quiet hum of acknowledgement, and closes his eyes. Hannibal stands, and goes back upstairs, clearing away the shaving kit and the bowl of water, and adding the washcloth to the hamper. He wipes down the counter, and from the cabinet he gathers Will's kneepads and gloves, as when he wakes he will undoubtedly want to stay as a kitten, and that means crawling around on unforgiving carpet and wood.

He brings everything back to the study, sets them down on a nearby chair, and fetches a glass of wine for himself, as well as a bowl of milk for Will. He sets the bowl down by the entrance to the cage within a larger bowl of ice to keep it cool, and then sits in his chair with a heavy, sated sigh, glad to simply have Will back with him, his soft snores a lovely echo of noise in the otherwise silent room.

Hannibal entertains himself with reading, since he has no pressing matters to attend to. Once he learned Will was coming home, he cleared his schedule and made sure to hunt the night before, so he would have plenty of food for the both of them. Will is a ravenous, demanding lover, whether he's a kitten or a man, and their time together has proven a solid enough pattern for Hannibal to know that, once Will is awake and feeling more alert, he will demand all of Hannibal's attention until he's satisfied.

Which is certainly no chore – God knows Hannibal is not innocent when it comes to his insatiable need to touch Will.

After a few hours, Will stirs, uttering a sleepy whimper. Hannibal straightens, and closes his book, setting it to one side. Will yawns widely, stretching as much as he can in the cage, and opens his eyes. Blinks at the bowl of milk, and smiles, reaching out to nudge it closer so he can lower his chin to the edge and lap at it.

Hannibal smiles, and gathers Will's kneepads and gloves, going over to him. Will lifts his head when Hannibal takes the bowl of milk away, lets out a sleepy, impatient noise that goes silent when he sees what's in Hannibal's hands.

The gloves are thin, black leather to match his collar, and will bind his fingers together and make them curl so they act like paws. Will's eyes darken, he licks his lips to get rid of a lingering droplet of milk, and crawls out of his crate, settling on his heels, and lifts his hands in offering. Hannibal smiles, and carefully works them over his fingers, fastening the straps around the arch of bone in his wrist. Then, Will falls to his paws, rolls his shoulders, and lifts up to his toes so Hannibal can attach his knee pads – also thin, and made of leather, not bulky but containing enough padding that he won't scrape his knees.

When Hannibal is done, he guides Will back to his hands and knees, sighs happily as he pets over his kitten's strong shoulders, his bare back – up through his soft hair. Will is purring openly, gasps out sweet, panting little whines as Hannibal strokes down his flanks, cups his jutting hipbones.

He slides his hands down further, idly wrapping Will's tail around his fingers, and Will whimpers, spreads his knees out, sinks to his elbows and paws at the floor. Hannibal grabs the base, working it in and out of him in small thrusts, teasing the ridges of it against Will's sensitive flesh, pulling until the largest part of it stretches Will wide and makes him moan.

The last piece of their game, Hannibal is already wearing. It's a half-sheath, wrapping around the base of his cock and going halfway up, and is similarly ridged. It can tear, if the flesh is not soft and yielding. Kittens getting bred need the pain, the rip, to coax them into heat and get them fertile. Hannibal has no intention of bloodying his sweet boy, but queens like Will need the pain, need to be reminded who's in charge.

Hannibal pulls the tail plug out, sets it on the floor by the edge of the crate, smiling when Will hisses in displeasure. He turns his head and snaps his teeth and Hannibal growls, rears over him and slams him down onto the floor. Will gasps, his hiss turning into a weak little moan as Hannibal wraps his fingers in Will's collar and pulls tight.

Will paws at the ground, trembling as Hannibal unfastens his suit pants and pushes the halves down, drawing his hardening cock out of his clothes. Will is slick and open, just enough to mount, just wet enough to want it, and Hannibal forces his thighs apart with his knees, cups Will's hip and lifts him so that he's at a good angle, and shoves himself inside.

Will howls, batting at the floor, his teeth bared as he fights the intrusion and tries to snap his teeth at Hannibal, and Hannibal leans over him, forcing his cock in deeper, shuddering at the feeling of Will, wet and hot and spasming around him.

He is viscerally proud at how tight Will is, how sharply he clenches up – clearly no other tomcat has managed to get inside him recently, there's no tell-tale semen inside him to prove to Hannibal that Will has been mounted by any other, even if that was something they allowed to happen in their play. He fucks in deep, the ridges on the sheath rutting into Will's ass, teasing at his rim and then inside him as Will moans, trembling and sweaty, and writhes beneath him.

"Fight all you want, little thing, you can't get away from me," Hannibal says, his voice little more than a snarl now, and he lets Will's collar go and plants his hand in Will's hair, forcing his cheek to the floor as he rises, fucking sharply into Will again. And again, relishing the squeeze of Will's ass and the broken, wanton noises he's making. Will is red and wet, eyes black, his hair curling with sweat, the sharp, salty taste of it coating Hannibal's tongue when he licks over Will's nape and uses the grip on his kitten's hip to work Will deeper onto his cock, so the barbs get lodged inside him.

Will moans, panting, shoulders rolling up into Hannibal's weight. He closes his eyes and mewls, unable to lift his head because Hannibal is keeping him down, can only breathe hard and show his teeth as Hannibal fucks him mercilessly. He knows Will's fresh-shaven cheek and thighs feel the wooden floor harshly, sensitive and tender.

Will spreads his legs wider, arches up, his body fitting so nicely beneath Hannibal's, curled up and small as he is. He shivers, whimpering, drags his arms down to fit under his body and wraps his gloved hands around his cock, fucking uncoordinated and animal between his palms.

He spasms, bearing down around Hannibal, and moans loudly as he shudders and spills onto the floor. Hannibal goes still, snarling, and bites down on the nape of his neck, both hands flying to his hips to get Will's clenching ass to work back onto him. With the sheath on, the sensation is dulled, but having Will like this is always enough to get him worked up. He pulls out almost all the way, fucks in until Will cries out, tossing his head, and Hannibal snarls, bares his teeth and digs them in deeper until they will undoubtedly leave a welting bruise behind.

Will is shaking beneath him, oversensitive and raw and split open, and Hannibal closes his eyes, breathes in the scent of his sated, sweet little kitten, and presses deep, flooding him with a shudder. Will whines, reaches back to paw at Hannibal's hands with his come-slick gloves, and moans when Hannibal collapses, pulling out of him.

He takes the plug and works it back inside, smiling when Will shivers, drawing his knees together so he doesn't get any of his come on his skin. As a man, Will doesn't give a damn about grease or dirt, but when he's a kitten he's meticulous about keeping clean.

Even as Hannibal thinks that, Will kneels up and licks at his gloves, purring and smiling as he grooms himself, and wipes the backs of them over his cheeks. There's a line along his face from being pressed to the floor, and Hannibal takes Will in his arms, turns him and kisses the little indent, petting Will's sweaty hair back from his face.

Will is purring openly, sated and happy, little twitches and shivers running down his spine and through his hips and thighs as Hannibal touches him. He tilts his head, nudges his nose to Hannibal's cheek, and gives him a series of kitten-licks along his jaw, finishing with a small nip at the corner, letting out a little hum of pleasure when Hannibal laughs.

"I love you too, darling," he says quietly, nuzzling Will's hair, and Will's answering chirp is soft and sweet. He paws at Hannibal's shirt as Hannibal pulls the sheath off his spent cock, placing it to one side, and tucks himself back in. Will puts his face in Hannibal's neck, purring loudly, as Hannibal pets him and gently coaxes him back towards the crate.

"Rest now," he says, and Will slow-blinks at him, content and satisfied, and crawls back into his crate, settling on his side and showing his belly with a sigh. He's flushed with warmth, shivering with pleasure, and Hannibal puts the bowl of milk back by the opening so he can drink. Will slow-blinks up at him again, lets out a quiet, needy noise, and paws at his hand.

"I'll be right here," Hannibal assures him, and Will huffs, displeased but not willing to leave the warm nest Hannibal made for him. He curls up tighter, purring quietly, and licks his lips. "When you've rested some more, I'll make you something to eat and give you a proper bath."

Will grins at him.

Hannibal smiles back, and leans in to kiss Will's forehead, cupping his hair one last time before he pulls away. Though he aches to get a taste of his boy's sweet mouth, kittens don't kiss, and there will be time for that later, once Will feels more like himself.

Will rolls his tongue, chirping at him, and closes his eyes, a smile on his face. Hannibal stands, washes the sheath and leaves it to dry in the kitchen, and pulls out the leftovers from his lunch, which he can repurpose as a meal for Will.

When he has the meat warming, he returns to the study to find Will idly batting at the fairy lights adorning the edges of the cage, purring happily, and he smiles, and settles back down in his chair, content to wait with Will's sweet scent flooding the room beneath the cooking meat.


End file.
